


Live Más

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, First Meetings, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 20:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11260797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A nyo rusame college au drabble detailing the meeting of Anya and Amelia, two very different girls whose paths cross on a Thursday evening over Taco Bell.





	Live Más

**Author's Note:**

> Reposted from my tumblr

She came into Anya’s life like a wrecking ball. A drunk, sweaty, Taco Bell-bearing wrecking ball.

“Hey, mind if I sit here?” she asked. She smelled like faux freesia, her deodorant having activated itself after a night of dancing, Anya supposed, just like in those cheesy commercials.

She glanced up from her textbook, the first break she’d had in hours. She took in the newcomer’s appearance quickly: a sickeningly white smile, surely bleached; full, pink lips; bright blue eyes that glistened within smudged mascara rings; a wavy blonde mop trapped under a cowboy hat and made frizzy by the induced humid environment of whatever party she’d been at previously; and huge breasts barely hidden by a very much unbuttoned plaid shirt.

Anya blinked at the request. She glanced around the room, finding every spot occupied with drunk students getting food and water before retiring for the night.

“Sure,” she said, scooting aside her books. Another Hollywood smile and Anya was no longer alone.

“I’m Amelia, by the way,” she extended her taco-free hand. Anya shook it, watching with disgust yet fascination as the blonde stuffed her face with a hard-shelled taco, the ground beef spilling out.

“I’m Anya.”

Amelia’s eyes brightened. “Ooh? An accent? What is it? Sounds Russian.”

“Da, that is correct.”

“Like Natalia Romanova, the super-sexy Black Widow! Anyway, what are you doing in the student center so late on a Thursday night?”

“Studying,” Anya sighed, apparently this woman wasn’t going to give her any peace. She checked the time on her phone. It was already three-thirty, so she supposed it didn’t matter. She’d told herself she’d head home by four in the morning, giving herself four hours of rest before her first class.

Amelia gasped, “But it’s syllabus week!”

“And?” Anya raised a brow at the remark.

“That means it’s party week! Well, every week is party week when you’re in college.”

“This is hardly a party university.”

“Any school in Cali is a party school!”

“We’re a top, private research institution,” Anya reminded her peer. She rolled her eyes. _Must be a stupid, spoiled freshman._

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Amelia waved her hand before digging it into her bag, pulling out a stuffed burrito this time. “So, what are you studying?” she asked between bites.

“Do you mean right now, or in general?”

“Both, I guess.”

“Right now I am reading articles that I must present on next week. My research advisor has assigned me many. And in general I study psychology. I wish to go to medical school after this.” Anya was not the best at conversation, so she did not follow her response with a similar question as culture suggested. She finished her note on her current article before packing it in her folder.

“Oh, that’s awesome! I could never do med school stuff, hospitals give me the creeps! Ghosts, you know?”

Anya nodded, though she thought the idea preposterous.

Amelia continued, “I’m studying aerospace engineering, you know, rockets and stuff? I’m tryna find some aliens, you know? I’ve met one before!”

Anya’s eyebrows rose. This girl seemed like a total ditz, and yet she had one of the hardest majors at the school. Sure, Anya’s was hard since she had to maintain top marks and balance research and volunteering to get into medical school, but at a predominantly STEM-centric school, her department was often looked down upon.

“What year are you?” Amelia broke the silence.

“I’m a third year.”

“Ugh, I’m talking to a baby!” she laughed. “I’m just teasing, of course. I’m a senior, but I’m doing a masters program next year before getting into industry and making the big bucks. Do you wanna be friends?”

“Excuse me?”

“You know, friends! Like, hang out, go to parties, go to bars, go to darties. I used to be in the biggest sorority until I got busted for fighting, but I still know a lot of frat guys who’ll host us! I’m still the back-to-back-to-back beer pong champ of campus!”

“I do not party, really.”

“Do you drink?”

“Occasionally I will have vodka after a long week or the evening after a hard test. I do not ‘go out’, as you say here.”

Amelia narrowed her eyes. “Aren’t you twenty-one?”

“Da, I am,” Anya blushed. She was old for her year, having turned twenty-one the winter of her sophomore year. As an international student, her educational timing had been a bit different and she’d been forced to wait a year before attending the university.

“Dude! You need to get out! I bet you have a 4.0, don’t you?”

“Not that good, I assure you.”

“3.9?”

Anya didn’t answer.

“Thought so. Well, do you want to try a party sometime? I can introduce you to my friends, they’re crazy—not in an illegal way, though! Don’t worry, we’re hardly hardcore. They’re just weird.”

Anya shrugged. Her parents had warned her before coming to the States to be careful about drugs and alcohol. They had wanted her to focus on her grades first and foremost and then on extracurriculars that would make her an ideal med-school candidate. Friends weren’t her priority, and going out definitely wasn’t either.

“Hm…” Amelia crumpled up her paper bag, now focusing on Anya. She moved suddenly, springing for her fountain drink which she slurped up loudly. “Maybe we can study together?”

“I am here every night, if you wish to join me. I would prefer you sober, however.”

“Of course! But, I only study Sunday to Wednesday nights. And if my fave place has any specials then I have to be there! I’m more of a daytime studier, to be honest.”

“I understand. I am usually in my lab during afternoons, or class.”

“What time do you start and end each night?”

“Usually from dinner until I am done. Midnight at the earliest.”

“Alright!” Amelia stood quickly. “I’ll see you here tomorrow, probably just as sloshed.” She tossed Anya her phone. “Gimme your number!”

Anya obeyed, a bit taken aback by the blunt order. With a wink, Amelia was gone, kicking up her cowboy boots behind her. Anya couldn’t help but notice the ridiculously short jean skirt showing off her toned legs. She blushed, shaking her head while packing up her books, hoping the other had been at some costume party and didn’t actually dress like that on a regular basis.

She was up at eight to start getting ready, and surprisingly so was Amelia, judging by her snapchat story of her and some of her “bros” “getting swole” at the gym. Anya rolled her eyes, not as appreciative of the meatheads. She also divulged from the story that Amelia had engaged in further drunken shenanigans with her roommates even after leaving the student center, throwing unlocked bikes into trees and stealing a traffic cone for their college house aesthetic. And yet, she was in class, albeit sharing silly pictures rather than taking notes and finding Anya on every available social media, even texting her paragraphs in the span of seconds. She asked Anya all about her classes, her research, her family, encroaching on intimate topics that Anya would have much preferred she ask in person.

Not that she was all that interested in spending more time than necessary with Amelia.

Hell, she figured if they ended up studying together, Amelia would only talk her ear off and reduce her efficiency. Anya preferred studying with quiet people, especially if they were in the same class and could help clear up any questions she had. Her closest friend, a timid man named Toris, was her go-to when she desired company, which was very rare.

Amelia invited her to grab lunch with her and some friends downtown, but Anya turned her down. She mentioned some pick-up ultimate Frisbee on the quad, and was rejected again. There was a welcome back barbeque for dinner that Amelia’s old sorority was hosting, but Anya preferred her own homemade meals.

The pregame (or was it a darty? she wasn’t sure) started during the barbeque, but Amelia’s texts didn’t decline in quality. Indeed, Anya even found herself laughing at her many stupid puns, comments, and memes. She wondered, if Amelia was so popular, why was she even bothering befriending such an outcast?

After the darty, during which Amelia won three consecutive games of beer pong before retiring for the evening in lieu of slap cup—Anya never understood Americans and their drinking games; why couldn’t they just drink? Did everything have to be a competition?—Amelia was at some other house party, teaching freshmen how to shotgun beers and pick up guys.

Anya wondered if Amelia had a boyfriend. She sure hung out with a lot of people, both guys and girls, and while she boasted of her wingman skills, she hadn’t expressed interest in any of her male friends that she was with.

Finally, after living vicariously through Amelia who was dancing at a local pub—the only one dancing, as it was—the pair finally reunited, once again at the student center.

“’Sup?” was Amelia’s simple greeting as she plopped down in the booth across from Anya. “Did you have a good day?”

“Yes, though it was uneventful. I got a good amount of work done. Don’t you have any work to do?”

“Nah, not till next week. It’s my senior year, dude! The professors know half of us are checked out, already having jobs or grad school figured out. And my adviser guarantees me that as long as I keep about a B average for the next two semesters, I’ll definitely get into my program. So I just don’t stress too much, you know?”

“I cannot say that ‘I know’ this feeling. I’ve been so stressed lately. I’m taking the MCAT over winter break and have been studying for so long. Plus my thesis adviser is giving me such ridiculous deadlines even though it’s not due till senior year,” she huffed. Despite this being only their second face-to-face conversation, she felt more comfortable talking to Amelia thanks to their numerous exchanges over the day. She hated when older people complained about youths spending too much time on their phones, texting instead of meeting. She enjoyed the lack of pressure nondirect communication offered, and she thrived on it. She knew that others thought her cold or brash in person, so it was nice to have another medium through which she could express herself. She was able to test the waters earlier, seeing what Amelia thought was funny or appropriate—she found that just about everything was fair game to the American.

“Yeah, that blows. My sister was interested in grad school, and she was always stressed about that. I’m so burnt out on school, man, and I’m glad I don’t have 4 or more years left of it!”

She shrugged. “It isn’t so bad. I like the material.”

Amelia grinned through her crunchwrap. “That’s good. I feel like I know a lot of pre-med kids who only stuck with it because they’d had that dream of being a doctor for so long. Even though they hated the classes and struggled, they just kept trucking. I hear the burnout rate in med school is so high because of that, but like, at that point you have to finish or you’ll never work your way out of that debt!”

“Da, it is an unfortunate but common situation,” Anya finally took the time to take in Amelia’s outfit. “What the hell are you wearing?”

She perked up slightly, though she was already full of smiles. “It’s sick, right?” she pressed a button, her tacky Christmas sweater lighting up the words “Merry Litmas”. “Christmas in July, a fabulous theme, though it’s god awful wearing this warm sweater in a California summer.” She pulled it off over her head, jostling her reindeer antler headband in the process.  “Are you an international student, or do you live in the States?”

“I moved here before high school.”

“What state do you live in?”

“Maryland, outside Baltimore.”

“Ah, that’s kind of random. Why’d y’all move?”

“That is… a bit of a personal matter.”

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to pry,” she smiled. “My friend Arthur says every time I talk I’m like a crowbar, so just let me know if I overstep. I just like getting to know all of a person, you know? Like what makes Anya Anya? What makes me me? That kind of stuff.”

She nodded. “I understand. Many of my psychology classes have oriented me in a similar fashion. Is Arthur a fraternity friend?”

Amelia laughed. “Just say ‘frat’, dude. And no, he’s a total nerd like you. But, we grew up together back in Baltimore, and both ended up here. He doesn’t like the frat parties, but is always down for the bars. He’s such a lightweight, though. Did you watch my story?”

“Da.”

“He was the dude not wearing a shirt trying to fight the pillar.”

Anya chuckled. “Ah, that is unfortunate. He seemed to have lost.”

Amelia’s laugh was louder. “All the way home he complained about the bricks cheating! Such an idiot. As always, I delivered him safely to his lecherous boyfriend before he could cause too much trouble.”

“Is that safe?”

“Oh sure. Francis may act like a perv, but with Arthur, especially blackout Arthur—pseudonym Oliver—he’s a perfect gentleman. It helps that Artie usually makes it up to him as soon as he’s over his hangover.”

Anya nodded. “That’s good. What about you?”

“What about me?”

She flushed. “Er… do you have a boyfriend?”

She laughed, then, seeing Anya’s confused face, laughed harder. “Oh! You’re serious! Wow, that’s funny… I haven’t been asked that in the longest time!”

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“No, don’t worry about it, dude! Sorry, I’m just used to people knowing who I am—not that I’m a celebrity or anything, but last year I did win Ms. Greek Life.”

“What’s that?”

She giggled. “Aw, you’re so unaware! It’s refreshing. Well, it’s like a pageant with all the sororities and frats. There’s a winner for the sororities and one for the frats.”

“Oh, like a talent show?”

“Sorta… it’s a lot more superficial though. I honestly only won because I’d hooked up with three of the four judges in the past,” she laughed. “So, it’s not actually that impressive, all you have to do is look good in a bikini. Super sexist competition, but I dunno, it was fun.”

“Oh… I see… So people know you from this?”

“Yup! And ‘cause I go out a lot, throw parties, tutor… I get around. Well, not in that way! Though, some people would call me a ho, I guess,” she smiled. “But, that’s all gossip! Anywho, why’d we get to talking about this? Oh! Right! I don’t have a boyfriend. And I laughed because I assumed you’d have heard of my reputation—the name’s Amelia F. Jones, and some people have taken to calling me Amelia Forever Alone Jones.”

“Oh, that’s rather rude. Why?”

She shrugged. “Probs the partying. But, I don’t really care. I’m enjoying myself, you know! If I wanted to date someone, I totally could!”

“Confidence is good,” Anya noted.

“You’re correct! What about you? Any boyfriend?”

“Er… no… I don’t really date.”

“Why not? A cutie like you! Well, I guess I should be thankful.”

“Why?”

She smiled, leaning forward on her elbows. “No reason.”

“You’re weird,” Anya noted.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” she changed the subject.

“Study—“

“Besides that!”

“Um… sleeping?”

“Poo! Come out with me!”

“I don’t know…”

“Not to a party or nothing! Just the two of us! On a date!”

She flushed. “A date? With me? What? Why?”

She winked. “Like I said, I could date someone if I put my mind to it, and I’d like to put my mind to you—and my lips, if you catch my drift.”

Anya was sure the alcohol was making her overtly affectionate. “I’m flattered, but I don’t know.”

She pouted. “Oh, wait, really? I totally thought you were into girls. Sorry.”

“That’s not the problem,” she tried to hide behind her book. “I don’t even know you!”

“We’ve been messaging non-stop forever! I know about your childhood pets and your allergies and your fear of clowns and heights and seagulls!”

“Don’t be so loud with this personal information!” she hissed, ducking down further. “I didn’t even know you were flirting with me.”

She sighed, exasperated, and slumped back in the wooden booth. “What? I thought I was spitting mad game! So many memes sent!”

“I thought that was just your personality!”

“Well, that’s fair… I am pretty outgoing… but I was hoping for a date! When I saw you here yesterday… I was like, damn, where did this fair, elf-like maiden come from?”

“An elf?”

“Don’t worry, I’m talking the hot _Lord of the Rings_ elves, not the _Harry Potter_ ones.”

“Uh…”

“And I was like, whoa, she’s so pretty, and so hard-working! And then you were super nice, too! And what a cool accent! And you’re so into what you’re studying—that’s awesome! So many people here hate what they’re studying, you know, and it makes me sad! So, whaddya say? If you really feel like you don’t know me well enough right now, then let’s get to know each other better on a date!”

She mulled over the compliments for a few seconds, Amelia’s eyes begging her silently. “Fine.”

“Fuck yeah!” she cheered.

“If—“ Anya interrupted, and Amelia shut up immediately. “I will go on a date with you this weekend only if you stay in tomorrow night and study with me.”

“Okay!”

“Wait, really?”

“Sure! Parties come a dime a dozen, but you, you lovely Russian dime, are once in a lifetime!”

“Oh,” she breathed. “That’s very sweet of you to say.”

“So, I’ll be here tomorrow ready to study, then date next day?”

“Sure.”

“Nice,” she clapped her hands together. “Good job, Amelia! Thanks, Amelia.”

Anya groaned—what the hell had she just agreed to?


End file.
